Exploring Shakhrisabz

On entering the city today the first thing you notice is the remains of the massive portal of Timur’s Ak-Saray Palace, which took 20 years to build and was destroyed by Abdulla Khan of Bukhara in the 17th century. It was Timur’s Summer Palace and was planned to be the most grandiose of all his constructions - the lancet arch of this building had a span of over 22 meters. It was started in 1380 by artisans deported by Timur from the recently-conquered Khwarezm. Unfortunately, only traces of its gigantic 65 metre gate-towers survive, adorned with blue, white and gold mosaics. Originally the entire palace would have been glazed with blue tiles and majolica ringed with an intricate ligature of inscriptions. The high doors would have led to a courtyard, the centre of which held a large reservoir surrounded by brilliant chambers, reception halls, intimate rooms and convivial partying. With this description it sounds almost like the Playboy Mansion – and I dare say Hugh Hefner would have felt at home there too.

Above the entry of the Ak-Saray are big letters saying: "If you challenge our power - look at our buildings!" – which sounds like something the Americans would say about New York today. Like the famous lines written for ‘Ozymandius, King of King’s’ his work is also in disrepair – but looses little of its impact for the ravages of centuries. We made it up the rickety steps to the top of the arch and looked out over a city of radiating green avenues and a rusty fairgound with a ferris wheel creaking and turning in the breeze, carrying the odd Uzbek courting couple up into the air.

In front of the arch is a massive statue of Timur and a national flag still flies proudly from the crown of the arch signifying the dignity and haughty grandeur that is still maintained in this ancient backwater. Given the scale of the ruins it is hard to grasp just how massive this structure must have been in it’s hey day - especially compared to the buildings of the time. It must truly have seemed testament to a world leader.

It was wedding season in Shahkrisabz with wedding parties a go-go sticking to Uzbek tradition of touring the city after the ceremony to get their pictures taken with all the huge statues of Timur. Not exactly intimate portraits, these photo sessions included the whole family in sparkly dresses being loudly serenaded by drummers and a small boy with a very large trumpet. September is the fortuitous month for Uzbek weddings and were are so many of them going on that the wedding parties had to queue up for their go in front of the statues.

Weddings are hugely important rites to the Uzbeks – and not cheap either. It is considered obligatory for the wedding party to consist of 2 - 300 guests, the groom’s parents are expected to provide the young couple with a house to live in whilst the bride’s parents furnish it with everything they might need. Although now strictly Muslim in nature, the Uzbek traditions of Zoroastrianism are in evidence with the ritual of purification when the couple walk around a fire 3 times before the groom brings the bride into his house.

Shahkrisabz would be rather ambitious to describe itself as a modern tourist destination, but that should not discount the reasons for visiting the area. Local entrepreneurs have also latched on to the idea that foreign money is to be had. After fortifying ourselves with gallons of tea and somsa savouries in a local tea house (delicious as long as you averted your eyes from the clouds of black flies!) we set out through the dirt lanes of the bazaar to the Dorussiadat Burial Complex, with the French bank managers strutting their stuff in time with the Russian techno issuing fro the bazaar.

The earliest building in the complex is the Shamseddin Kulyol mausoleum (1370). Next to this is a mausoleum of one of Ulug Beg’s descendents – Gumbazi. The complex also includes a mausoleum for two of Timur’s sons, Jahangir and Umar Sheikh, which is an outstanding example of Khorazmian architecture, tiled with slabs of limestone and built by Khorazmian slaves in the second half of the 14th century. Janangir was considered Timur’s favourite son and when he died in 1376 Timur’s grief was such that is was described as: “the heart of the Lord was closed for compassion for 30 years”. And if the great Timur wasn’t very happy, you could almost guarantee that he’d be making other people’s lives a misery as well.

Also here is a mausoleum built for Timur himself several years before his death, (although he was eventually buried in Samarkand). Arranged in the shape of a tent reflecting the nomadic conquering lifestyle he led, the crypt of the mausoleum (the only part that has survived) has a single marble grave with its cover left open, waiting for Timur. The walls of the crypt are very simply decorated with a design in the shape of a teardrop, and an inscription in Arabic reading: "A wise and powerful man shall seek the advantage in every situation and act on his own, where as a fool waits upon the action of others". This struck me as just as thought provoking today as it must have been then.
The local entrepreneurs in evidence in the rose studded courtyard were mainly women. Although coy and giggling they were ruthless salesmen! Luckily the Uzbek culture worked in my favour as they left me alone and to hassle Steven assuming he was my husband and confused as to why he wasn’t buying me anything, although they weren’t fooling us with their “ancient coins” that were marked “UAE 1990”. Not so ancient. They were selling the usual variety of Uzbek curios: finely embroidered cushion covers, hats and stockings, colourful felt cloaks, hand painted bowls and cheap beads.
I bought a traditional hat for Rob – a tyubeteika – the national skull cap. These caps are square and squat on the head and invariably black with a white embroidered pattern. Handily they fold down flat for transportation – very cunning! According to ancient belief the four flowers on the top protect the health of a wearer and sixteen flowers (sixteen children) along the edge guarantee a large and harmonious family. Another version interprets the flowers, embroidered with white silk on a black background, as a symbol of the pure soul and heart: "White and black. Two poles - two beginnings. The black square - cosmos and darkness. Four white segments - rotation and solar symbol. The look is frozen, vanishing in the whirl. In a moment, you will disappear in the vortex - calmness" - wrote Sergey Alibekov about Uzbek tyubeteika.
The simple design of the men’s cap is augmented with richer embellishment for those of women and children and is closely associated with the spiritual life, customs and poetic turn of mind of the Uzbek people. This sense is illustrated by the position the cap holds in Uzbek tradition. If an Uzbek wants to emphasise that some matter will be done immediately, he says "Duppingni bir ailantirguncha" ("While you are turning your tyubeteika around your head").
On the way back in the wheezing Lada we stopped to take some photos of the view and met a couple of lovely girls selling what looked like crab-apples by the side of the road. Initially they were very shy, but got very excited at being able to see themselves in the digital camera display and insisted on me taking photos of a young man asleep and then waking him up to embarrass him. I was eventually rescued by the driver of our car before I was made to photograph absolutely everything….

Back in Samarkand we had some very relaxed evenings in the guesthouse, settled round a low table on a raised dais just right for reclining on piles of cushions and chatting about Stuff. It was starting to get a little chilly in the evenings – a great excuse for socks and sandals and a snuggley fleece. We ended several evenings in fits of giggles, having only been drinking tea.

The first was sitting out late one night talking to Steven with our backs to the open window of a dorm. During a power cut (torch to hand of course!) we started hearing tremendous farts from whoever was sleeping in the dorm trumpeting across the silent courtyard. We quickly reverted to being about 9 years old – very silly. The second time was when a Swedish couple arrived and decided to make use of the communal bathroom. This consisted of a squat loo, sinks and a shower room built in mud under the kitchens and heated with some sort of smelly natural gas. Not very romantic you’d have thought until we spotted Mr. Swede heading over with a towel, followed by Mrs. Swede – in a short nightie and high heeled mules. This was followed by a lot of giggling from the bathroom and noises we didn’t want to hear. Not usual youth hostel etiquette!